The Intimacy of Orange and Green
by BritCakes
Summary: It had been three years since Kyle had left Kenny in favour of Christophe; three years since he vanished and lost contact with everyone, including his bitter ex. When the Jew turns up at Kenny's house, beaten, scared, and broken - chaos errupts throughout the small mountain town. T/W: Rated M for domestic abuse and implied non-con. Eventual smut depending if anyone's interested.
1. Chapter 1

The Intimacy of Orange and Green.

Fuck me it's been a year or two, hasn't it? Welp, I've clattered back to the South Park fandom and, naturally, back into K2 so I decided to attempt a multi-chap. If anyone's interested in this going further, do tell. It's nice to know someone would read it. Well, read, review, and I hope you enjoy.

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Three years. He had been missing for three years. No one had ever been missing for decades since the town was so small and everyone knew each other, but no had heard from, or seen the red-head. Even three years later, they were still hunting, on the verge to giving up.

No one ever goes missing in South Park.

"Iz z'at eet, Kyle?" Christophe's low voice growled, sitting on the sofa in a trashed apartment with a small plate of beans-on-toast. "And 'ow do you expect me to keep going on something like zees?"

"I-I had to keep some food, Christophe." Kyle stammered, "We're running low and you don't trust me out on my own-"

"Shut up you leetlle beetch!" He snapped, throwing the plate of hot food at Kyle, which thankfully smashed against the wall just beside him. The boy stiffened, watching Christophe with a horrified expression. If that had smashed against him...

The Semite began to daze, thinking of what scars the plate and hot food would have left on him before he was snapped back to reality. "I vant somefing beeg, Kyle. I don't want. Somefing. Small. Do you understand me?" He barked. Kyle gave a slow nod as he forced himself to step into the tiny kitchen.

He began to scavenge around for food; three eggs, three pieces of toast, and some pancake mix big enough for five pancakes. Perfect. He quickly cooked everything, throwing the toast into the toaster, cracking the eggs, and making up his fluffy pancakes.

He bit his lip in concentration, knowing he needed to make his breakfast tasty enough. Maybe if he got full, Kyle could get the scraps. He hated having two meals a day - and sometimes that didn't even happen, which made him more skinnier and even more pale than he hoped. He was amazed that, no matter how bruised he was, how bloody or beat he was; he was still alive.

Surely he would have died by now, but no, he's kept strong. He grabbed the plate and the cleanest fork he could find and carefully walked over to Christophe, handing him the plate. He watched as the mercenary began to scrutinize the food, looking to see if there was a bit of mold or if it was burned, even only slightly. "You 'ave done well, Kyle." He decided with a nod, tucking in. He didn't save him a thing, which only made the Jew frown, but he daren't speak up about it. God forbid he stood up for himself. It only made the nights worse.

Christophe checked his pager that clung onto the waist-band of his trousers, frowning. "Kyle, I 'ave to go to Russia for a month. I expect the usual as I am away." He nodded briefly, briskly walking up to Kyle and tangling his fingers into the others hair. He tugged, listening to him yelp, before slamming his lips against his; a farewell kiss.

Kyle watched as Christophe walked out the front door. He listened to the familiar click of the lock. He was, once again, alone. The room was bathed in darkness, not having payed the electricity bill. Christophe deemed it a waste of time, only using what they could - like lighters. Lighter-cases were littered around everywhere, including empty petrol bottles. He carefully stood over those before looking into the mirror that was cracked in the mirror.

He stared at himself, he obviously hadn't been getting much sleep, crying away the nights and managing an hours rest. His green eyes were dull compared to the vibrant orbs they once were. His hair was a greasy and he was just a mess. Kyle pressed his hands against the mirror with a saddened smile. He looked completely pathetic..

He needed out.

Kyle would watch his captor from the stairs. He knew every hidden secret of the house - especially where he kept the spare key. He hesitated and walked into the porch, stuffing his hand into the small hall on the wooden wall until he found the worn key. He gripped it tightly, staring at the handle in contempt. Should he or shouldn't he? He quickly jammed the key into the hole and turned, listening to the click. He threw the key onto the ground, grabbed his jacket and threw it on, and ran.

He ran to where ever he deemed was safer than here. He didn't know when Delorne was coming back and he didn't care, he just had to leave. His mind wandered to Stan but he decided he would flip out. Cartman was a dick and Kenny...

Well he was already at the house. He swallowed, eyeing the broken home with a nervous gaze. Could he face his ex? Could he tell him the truth? He bit back tears and knocked on the door. He waited, awkwardly fiddling with the flaps on the Ushanka. God, he couldn't do this. He wanted to cover as much bruises as possible, but it didn't help with the fact he couldn't stop crying or shaking.

The door swung open and he was faced with an eighteen year old Kenny. Three years. Three long years. "... Kyle..?" Kenny's eyes widened, watching as the shortest nodded. He took a step back and slammed the door in his face, screaming obscenities at him.

"K-Kenny! Please! I can explain!" Kyle whimpered. It was quiet for a few minutes before the door swung open. "Get in." He hissed bitterly, grabbing his arm tight and forcing him into his room. He either ignored Kyle's pleas of letting him go or he simply didn't hear.

"Explain then." Kyle began to look around, struggling for words. How can he say, 'I was forced to leave you to live with Christophe who abused me emotionally, physically, sexually, and even psychologically.' How do people just say that? He still loved the blonde, he loved him so much but he was afraid. He had hurt him, so Kenny could hurt him back.

"I-It's.. I..." He pursed his lips, looking down. It was only then he realised that he couldn' speak anymore. "I-I can't.." He choked, hiding his face. His body lurched forward, sobs shaking his sickly form. All Kenny could do was watch, a satisfied smirk on his face, but inside, he wanted to hold him and cry with him.

He had to stay mad, he had too.

"I-I'm so sorry, Kenny!" He wailed, curling into himself on his bed. "I-I didn't want.. b-but he.. a-and.."

"Shut up," Kenny sighed, rubbing his temples. "Sit straight and stop crying." He was confused when Kyle followed the order, rubbing his tired eyes with the faded-orange jacket. He bit his lip, as if he sewed them together. He did it to keep himself getting hurt.

That's when it clicked in Kenny's mind.


	2. Chapter 2

Hey, guys. No reviews yesterday but I know some of you like this story. That's good. I hope this one does get reviews however Anyway, this one had like the back-story and stuff. So, why did Kyle leave Kenny? Anyway, yeah, read and review and stuff. I hope you like it ;w;

Chapter 2

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Fuck, how could he not notice this before? How utterly terrified the Jew was. How he obeyed so quickly. It was a new sight to see Kyle act like this, but it wasn't new to him. He saw it everyday, but that's kind of what you'd get if you live in a broken family like the McCormick's.

Karma. That's what it was. Kyle had left Kenny for some french fucker who turned out to be abusive. He had it coming. That's what Kenny wanted to believe, but just seeing him there, quivering and staring into his eyes.. he didn't know if he could hate the Semite.

He felt conflicted. He should be angry, so fucking angry, but... he looked so vulnerable. It hurt. So much more than the night he walked out, walked away to the fate HE chose for himself. God, he needed to smoke or drink or something.

Kenny turned around with a small scowl on his face, he was going to kill that Jew and that smug french-

"K-Kenny?" Kyle's voice suddenly pierced the silence. Kenny turned around to watch the other once more as he began to struggle for words.

"You aren't that mad... are you?"

Yes. He was mad. He was fucking pissed that, for three years, he had kept himself to himself. He had kept the relationship at a steady pace for him. He didn't cheat or anything. In fact, he waited for Kyle. He waited until he ready.

And he left him alone.

"No." He forced. "No, I'm not angry, Ky. In fact, I'm fucking excited you're here. I'm excited that the first person I actually ever loved - the first person to tame me and made me study more, the first person who actually openly admitted they care and love me, left for three years and didn't even call." His low, calm tone gradually turned into yelling.

Kyle flinched. Good. He deserved to feel fear.

Kenny sat on the edge of the bed, staring at him. "What happened while you were gone?" It sounded more like a demand than a question. He had to know why he was so scared. All sympathy he should have been feeling wasn't there. It never was.

"Kenny, I can-"

"Tell me!" He snarled. He saw Kyle's gaze fall to the floor, almost in shame, as he took several breaths.

"Everything..?" He looked up at Kenny in time to see him nod. He looked out the window and took another deep breath.

"Three years ago... No, wait. In third grade somewhere, you died from Terrance and Phillip. We had met Christophe just before hell came up on earth, y'see and, he died in my arms." He began. "Three years ago, he came back and saw me. I don't know, Kenny, but we instantly clicked. S-so we became friends."

He looked away, knowing Kenny was listening..

"Erm... he.. he knew of our relationship and there was this.. look in his eyes. He told me to leave you or he'd kill both of us," He hesitated. "S-so I did."

Kenny felt like shit. He held this huge grudge for Kyle for just walking out on him... His thoughts were caught off as he continued.

"He forced me into this apartment, dude. He told me I couldn't go out and if I did, I'd be met with consequences. So he forced me to be this toy; a slave. I'd cook, clean, all those stuff. In return, if there was just one thing wrong, he'd... s-sort of smack me around a little," He swallowed, "Beat me up. He'd tell me these things that would even make Cartman disgusted. He'd just.. use me as a cumdumpster. He'd call me a whore - his whore." He explained in short, not bothering to put in details. He was sure that was detailed enough.

"He left for Russia for a month. I escaped." Kyle finished, with his eyes closed.

Silent. The room was silent as Kenny watched him with wide eyes. All the hatred he had felt for Kyle disappeared. All that was left was this.. sour feeling that he couldn't name. He wanted to run. He wanted to hold Kyle in his arms, tell him that it was okay.

So he did just that.

Kenny practically crushed Kyle into his chest, stroking through the greasy curls. "Sh, it's okay to cry, Kyle. I'm here now.." The boundaries were broken now; Kenny openly cried with him.

"I'm sorry about earlier.." He murmured, rocking both of them back and forth. "I didn't mean.. It just hurt, dude. Not having you near.. nothing'll be the same, be we get back together. I mean.. show me your bruises Ky."

Kenny could already see the hickeys, they weren't worthy enough to be called love-bites, around his neck and collarbone, reducing the usually pristine flesh into a horrible purple colour. Kyle rolled his sleeves back, showing him the small bruises and cuts he earned back from the apartment. Some of them were his clumsy doings - like trying to pick up glass shards - but most, if not all, were from Christophe in some way.

they told a tale.

With much hesitation, the blonde took the red-heads handand brought his bruised arm to his lips. He kissed each one gently, as if ridding him of his past. If only it was so easy. "Shh, Ky.." He murmured. "Lets get some sleep." He whispered, unzipping the orange jacket and discarding it on the floor.

They curled up into the bed, holding the terrified boy close to his chest. He kept whispering that everything would be okay. That he never had to go back. He also said they had to see Cartman and Stan tomorrow, and that thought alone horrified him.

"I love you Kyle. I always will. No matter what happens. I promise that you never have to go back." Kenny had told him before they closed his eyes.

He never had to go back.


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Sorry this is so short, I'm just trying to get back into the swing of things. I promise chapters will try to be longer.

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There was a funny thing about situations like this. An abused person escaping the abuser and running to the arms of someone who they loved years ago, and still did. The memories still haunt you. It doesn't matter where you are, who you are, or where you're from. The burden would still continue to follow you.

Kyle was a smart boy, and was often praised about this. By his friends (minus one, anyway), his teachers (Mr Garrison may just be an exception at times, never liking to be called out), and his family. Especially Sheila. Almost always Sheila. But if he had ever given any intellectual advice to Christophe, he'd be slapped, called out on talking back, and burned with the cigarette in his mouth or, if he wasn't smoking at the time, he would just be starved. There were many punishments he had with Christophe and, when he was forced to talk about it with Kenny in the (near enough) safety of his own home, he ended up crying.

It wasn't like he wanted too! He had to be strong, to never cry in front of Christophe since he hated "Fucking pussies", it wasn't like he wanted Kenny to hold him as if he was a fine piece of china, easily broken. He wasn't a broken girl. He wasn't broken.

"You were crying last night." The blonde sighed, "I could hear you. Whimpering that French piece of shit's name. Forget about him, Kyle." After all of this, after the big reveal, Kenny still felt bitter. Inside, one part of him wanted to do those things to him. He wanted to see him bleed, as redemption for his broken heart. Another part of him weeped for the boy whom he still loved, even after all these years. The Jew continued to have him under lock-and-key, which made him feel absolutely horrible.

Forgetting. Something that should have been so easy. Something that Kyle would love to do, to just throw away the memories of the three years. But, if He existed, God must have a cruel sense of humour.

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A month had passed, and Christophe had just come back from Moscow. The walk was brisk just was the weather was and it didn't take long for him, at all, to reach his destination. A smirk crawled to his face as he jammed the key into the keyhole, twisting it and opening the door. He stepped into the warmer-than-outside house and sighed, closing the door behind him. "Kyle!" Christophe yelled, voice rough and callous. Missions were never easy, but they weren't meant too be. He was a mercenary and, most of the times, a hit-man.

"Kyle! Get your skeeny leetle ass down here, you fucking beech!" He screamed, but his voice echoed through out the empty house. Eyes burning with rage, he stormed around and threw things everywhere, not caring if they smashed at all. His 'boyfriend' had disobeyed him. His 'boyfriend' left without a word. And, with every other things that Kyle had done, he had to pay for them. As soon as this day was done, he would have the Semite's blood splattered across the wall. No, better yet.. he hadn't been discovered, has he? Of course not, it wasn't like anyone wanted the pale-skinned beauty anymore anyway. He could 'discover' the then-dead Jew and make a million. Or at least be richer than the red-necks in this town.


End file.
